Across the Border
by xoUselessLesbianxo
Summary: 165 days, 7 hours and 43 minutes since Mickey Milkovich had crossed the border. 165 days, 7 hours and 43 minutes since he'd left the man he loved and started a new life. Mickey makes some bad decisions that lands him face to face with the guy who deserted him. But there's one problem. Mickey has orders, orders to kill. *Short story, two-three chapters. Dark themes. Gallavich.*
1. Chapter One

**Across the Border**

 **Chapter One**

165 days, 7 hours and 43 minutes since Mickey Milkovitch had crossed the border. 165 days, 7 hours and 43 minutes since he'd left the man he loved and started a new life on the run. It wasn't his choice to go it alone into the next chapter of his shitty, fucked up life. But Ian made his choice and now Mickey was alone.

The first few months were the hardest. He chewed up the cash Ian had left him in a matter of days and had resorted to stealing to cover the rent on a small, rat infested room upstairs in the only bar in town. He'd ditched the stolen car in a ravine just outside El Espia, using tree branches to disguise the vehicle. So living inside a car wasn't a viable option. He'd had to hitchhike just to reach the town he now resided in, Charcos de Risa, which was a four and a half hour drive north from San Pedro. Luckily for Mickey, or so he thought, his unsavoury talents of fighting and thieving were discovered by a man known as Alejandro, a local gang leader of the towns biggest gang. Mickey agreed to join rather quickly, having no other alternative than to join as only moments before he'd finally been kicked out of the room in the bar due to not being able to make rent.

More months passed on, joining the gang had given him something to do as opposed to drinking himself to sleep every night. It also meant he had very little time to think about a certain redhead which of course had been the reason for his unnecessary day drinking. He kept his sexuality a secret amongst the gang, knowing very well he could be beaten or worse if they ever found out. His kind weren't welcome around here. His job as part of Alejandro's gang consisted of drug deals and beatings of people who didn't pay up on time. And as time moved on he was able to distance himself from the terrible things he did to survive. But what was worse was that he began to distance himself from who he was, and completely undoing how far he'd come. He had never been a good person and never would be. He would always be Southside trash after all. But during the long days he was the same Mickey he had been years ago. At the end of the day when everything fell silent, a vastly different world to the one he'd grown up in, he couldn't escape from himself. Things began to catch up to him at night, his mind drifting to the subject of Ian Gallagher until one night he found himself standing in front the mirror in the bathroom as angry tears stung his eyes. "Fuck you." He swore, hands balled into fists like a cobra about to strike. "Fuck you for leaving! Fuck YOU!" His fist struck out against the glass, shards falling into the sink and all over the floor. Beads of red welled up against the tiny cuts on his hand and he angrily rubbed at his eyes.

After that night and as more time passed his anger boiled down to a simmer just below the surface. Instead he threw himself into his work, gaining more and more respect amongst the gang. Eventually this led to a promotion, his new job being one of Alejandro's inner circle as they realised how valuable the thug's skill set really was. Of course, with his ascent up the ranks, his work became darker and far more dangerous. Mickey's new job sent him spiralling out of control and without anyone to stop him he lost more and more of himself. He never recognised the man staring back at him in the mirror anymore. The only thing he still had from his past life were the words 'Ian Gallagher' tattooed across his chest. Well, it would be Gallagher but of course just his luck to spell it wrong. Looking at that name was the only time he allowed himself to feel something. He was still so angry, even after all this time. But he still missed the redhead in more ways than one. Mickey managed to find someone to fuck every now and then, sometimes resorting to women. Not that he ever got off. The closest thing he came to it, so to speak, was when he managed to find a redhead about three months into his stay. She was just passing through on vacation and with an exchange of names they hooked up in the local bars bathroom out the back. He ended up returning to his room after the fact and finishing off himself, using a photo he'd kept of Ian to do it. He felt pathetic afterwards, just as he had when Ian had left for the army. But at least it was easier to get a lay back in the States. Mickey quickly shook off his self-pity and pulled out a smoke instead.

…

Mickey woke up on the 166th day of his new life in Mexico and reported to Alejandro just as he did every morning. He was a robot, a machine used by the gang to get what they wanted, when they wanted. They didn't care about Mickey. He was merely a pawn in their game and he knew it. But what did it matter anymore? His care factor of being reckless had always been minimal, so as time passed his concern over getting caught by the law began to fade.

Mickey walked into the gang lord's office, ready for whatever the man threw at him. He idly wondered what job his boss would give him today and when he was told they'd caught a man that had been looking for him he balked, his blood running cold. They'd found him. After all this time the police had caught up to him. As Alejandro continued to speak he learned that the job Mickey had been bestowed with was to take him out. The thug's expression remained as cold as stone even if he was panicking on the inside. There was no other way out of this, not if he wanted to stay undetected. Besides, there was no way he'd ever be able to back out of a job. It'd be the last thing he ever did. So with a nod he left the room, making his way towards the basement with clear instructions. Beat this guy until he spills his knowledge on an opposing gang that were planning to come after them and then kill him.

Mickey swallowed thickly as he descended the stairs, the guy standing guard at the bottom opening the door for him. He cracked his knuckles both to prepare and look tougher than he felt only to come face to face with the one person he never expected to see again. The person before him had a face that was bloody and bruised. His hair was mattered with blood and his head was lowered but he knew him. He knew that orange fiery hair and the sight before him reminded him of another time. The time his own father had started a brawl at the Alibi because his son came out as gay.

Words evaded him as he stared soundless at the redhead, thankful that the door had been closed behind him. The head slowly lifted and for a moment the world seemed to stand still. Recognition flashed in the redhead's eyes, not quite believing what he was seeing. "Mickey?"


	2. Chapter Two

**Across the Border**

Chapter Two

Ian's head shot up at the familiar sound of the street thug's voice, a look of surprise and disbelief flashing across his battered face. He struggled against the restraints that bound his limbs to the chair but to no avail. All the emotions that Mickey had been harbouring since arriving in Mexico began to boil to the surface and his eyes met Ian's. He was angry at Ian for leaving him, he was angry at the men that did this to him. And he was mad at himself for the position he was now in. He'd chosen this path and now Ian was tied to a chair and Mickey was the one who'd been ordered to kill him.

Mickey pulled a knife from his pocket and quickly moved to cut the ropes at the redhead's wrists. "We gotta move." He urged, yanking the rope free and moving onto his ankles. In seconds he had him free but knew they were far from safe here. "What are you doing with them?" Dried blood caked Ian's lips as he spoke which made his voice sound muffled. He tried to stand and all but cried out in pain when he did. Mickey looked at the doorway with the guy on the other side, knowing he had to take him out. But he was the least of their worries. The place was packed with gang members and they wouldn't have much time to escape before someone realised something was up.

Without thinking Mickey moved to support him, putting an arm over his shoulder which made him cry out once more. Again the anger he felt towards the men he was supposed to be with made his blood boil, the hatred towards them taking over above all else. This was far worse than a bar brawl on a Saturday night. This was personal, and no matter how pissed off he'd been at Ian for leaving him all those months ago, his heart ached to see him this way. "We gotta get you to a fucking hospital." He declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "No." Ian protested, a spluttering cough leaving his lips. Mickey's face furrowed in frustration as he struggled to keep the other man upright. "Don't be an idiot. You're fucking going."

Another pained sound escaped the redhead and Mickey took that as a small victory at least for now. He flung the doors open and removed himself from Ian's weight only for a second so he could take out an extremely surprised guy standing guard of the door. Mickey's fist collided with the guy's head with a satisfying 'thunk' and he turned back to Ian, shouldering his weight once more and they stepped over the unconscious man's body. The radio sounded next to the man's body, at first static before a voice came through. 'Is everything alright down there? Has it been done?' Mickey froze but only for a second before reaching for the device and pressed the button. "It's done. I'm on my way back." He tossed the device aside and shouldered Ian's weight once more, heading towards the stairs that lead to the main corridor. There were no signs of distress yet, but he knew they wouldn't have long before the guys body was discovered and they found Ian nowhere in sight.

They rounded a corner and were just about to take another step when someone whistling headed in their direction. Mickey made a split-second decision to shove Ian back around the corner and out of sight as the guy appeared in the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the current situation at hand.

"Hey!" He heard a voice called loudly, his blood running cold as his mind raced to think of a way out of there. Any fucking way at all. He was about to give up hope as he turned to face the gang member, just about ready to put his hands up in surrender. The guy eyed Mickey carefully, quickly appraising his blood-stained shirt. He thought for sure this was it. They were both fucking dead and there was nothing he could…-

"Did he scream?" Mickey's first reaction was to will himself to not look like a stunned idiotic child whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar. His second was to knock the guys teeth back into his skull until he swallowed them. But not for the first time that night it took every bit of resolve he had left to swallow down that fury. "Yeah he screamed." Mickey replied, mustering all the bravado and pride he could in that moment. This seemed to satisfy the bloodthirsty gang member as he let out a dark amused laugh then turned to continue on his way. "Boss is wantin' to see you in his office." The comment was thrown over his shoulder as he began to walk away and Mickey finally allowed himself to relax, but only slightly. "Like fuck he's going to see me." Mickey muttered to himself as he returned to Ian's side, helping him to his feet.

…

Their next problem occurred when they'd finally reached outside after escaping the building only to realise they had no way to get to the hospital. Neither of them had much money on them so calling for a taxi wasn't an option. They could call an ambulance, but Ian's cell phone had been taken and destroyed when they'd began to beat him so that wasn't an option either. "Guess we're walkin'."

The walk was long and torturous, particularly for Ian as his wounds were still achingly fresh. But Mickey kept him going the entire way, threatening to leave him on the side of the road if he passed out. However, they both knew it was only a bluff. Like hell Mickey would ever leave him there.

They eventually stumbled upon an old laundry mat, one Mickey hadn't ever noticed before but by god he was glad of its existence now. There were only two customers inside when they stumbled through the door and thankfully the phone still worked after asking the owner if they could use the phone out back. Given Ian's current physical state there wasn't much argument involved and Mickey was quickly shown to the phone out back. It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive but when it finally did neither argued about Mickey riding with the medics. Like fuck he was going to get left behind. Of course the medics asked questions and when they learned that Ian was EMT they seemed to treat him with a little more respect. They'd probably thought there'd been some drug deal gone wrong or something. And they wouldn't be far from the truth considering the gangs association with drugs.

They took Ian to carry out a series of tests and scans to make sure there were no serious injuries and Mickey stayed in the waiting area for the remainder of the light, asking or rather demanding for updates every few hours. Finally, after what felt like an eternity the doctor finally emerged from behind the curtains with a clipboard in hand.

"He's going to be fine."


End file.
